Even flowers can be cold
by EmmanuelleG
Summary: He watched as the child changed to a beautiful woman, as she laughed and played. And it was simply too much to handle. Be close and yet never to touch; maddening. Perhaps that is why he accepted the bargain and stole her.   Rating may change.
1. Chapter 1: Not a beautiful child anymore

This is an idea of mine that had been tormenting me for months and months. However I was worried about writing it down… Greek mythology is such a vast subject. The Hades and Persephone tale always fascinated me – c'mon, who doesn't like all those kidnapper love stories ? – mainly because it had never been described. We know what happened but not what they felt.

Before all of you out there start yelling OHMYGOD – XD – I would like to clarify, for those who don't know, that Hades is indeed Persephone's uncle. What's worse it that he is Demeter's brother who is Zeus' sister… To not make this complicated let's just say that Demeter, Hades and Zeus are all three brothers and sisters. And yes, Zeus had a daughter with his sister. Don't ask me how.

So yeah, Persephone is basically an incest child. But something tells me they didn't really care about it XD. How do I imagine Hades…I certainly don't imagine him with a long beard – just doesn't seem right, LOL. For me he's a middle-aged man of a normal to handsomely-normal appearance. You know, that kind of person who looks both pretty and terrifying ? But let me assure you that for me – at least in this story – he is tall. His age in appearance ? I'll say thirty-eight, thirty-nine, maybe even forty. Because seriously he IS older than Persephone. And when I say it, I mean it. He is A LOT older.

* * *

**Chapter 1 : Not a beautiful child anymore**

''The flowers are cold,'' Demeter whispered reverently. ''Look, they are now frosted. Do not stand so near, step away.''

''But isn't the sight beautiful still?'' The God inquired. ''Their beauty shall not die, it will remain.''

''Only few see beauty in death, Hades. I am not one of those. And Persephone would question. Death is not for her to hear about.''

''Yet she knows what it is.'' Hades replied softly, watching the blond child run in the meadow.

''She does.'' Demeter agreed. ''But I will not torment her for at least years with deeper knowledge. She is just a child.''

''How old is she?'' He asked. He always did.

A soft smile grazed the mother's lips. ''She is but seven.''

''Such a beautiful child she is.''

Her skin was pale; milk and the moonlight mixed together to create something so uniquely _hers_. It was fine as porcelain, fragile as silk. It was flawless, delightfully so, white and creamy. His fingers ached with need to run them down her arms, linger a moment too long on her neck and finally entwine themselves in the liquid gold; her hair. She was a beautiful child. He wished to cradle her close and never let go. It wasn't physical attraction, at least not quite yet. She was just so perfect and when one set eyes on an immaculate being like her he became passionate.

And so was he. She carried with herself warmth; a soft warmth that he wished to wrap around himself like a blanket. He always told her mother how pretty her daughter was and Demeter just smiled. She remained silent because there was nothing else to add. And sometimes Hades regretted so that the little nymph -though she was so much more- wasn't his own. It would have been never-ending Elysium to  
watch the child play all day long.

Her hair was golden and straight. Never had he seen something as shiny and long. It fell to the girl's hips, enveloping her little body every time she sat and tried to catch the fishes in the water. Oh, it never worked but she always smiled so. And when she laughed he laughed, and when she grinned he attempted to do so as well. She never saw him; her mother never allowed it, claiming that the cold he carried wasn't for her daughter to bear. And he complied because silently agreed but still couldn't go away once and for all. There would be more dead, frozen flowers year after year and sometimes Persephone did ask the meaning behind their end.

He knew that Demeter never truly confessed that he visited and so the blonde nymph remained ignorant, sighing sadly when frost covered grass and she couldn't understand why it happened. Sometimes he would sit close to her, invisible, hidden in the shadows, and breathe on her neck. She would then tremble and  
giggle before running away. It was always such a guilty delight.

Her eyes were blue. They bore no specific shade; just an awful paleness that was almost painful to watch. Crystal clear they were, like stream water, like the purest diamonds. Not large, not little. When she was tired they looked like two almonds and she would close them and go back to sleep. He adored her long, almost-white lashes that still bore some golden shade. It was unusual and perfect. Countless times he wished she would look at him with that dreamy expression of hers and smile and perhaps even take his hand.

But she was such a beautiful child... And he always wished she was his own. This was until she remained one, just a girl, plain with no curves or other feminine beauties. Of course she questioned her mother about what happened under the Earth but Demeter remained vague.

''She is a curious girl, I could show her.'' He once offered.

''You are right; many questions come and go through her mind.'' The mother agreed, smiling as her child wandered in the lake, lifting her skirts more and more as she advanced.

Hades looked away once her creamy thighs came in view.

''But I do not wish for her to know your cold.'' She finished.

''At least you could present her to me. I am her father's brother.''

''Yes,'' Demeter mused, ''She is your brother's bastard daughter. But do not fool yourself, Hades, I don't want you close to my Kore.''

''I thought her name was Persephone.'' He said absentmindedly.

The robe was thrown aside but nothing apart her shoulders were seen. Other nymphs joined her and soon they were laughing, splashing water. It seemed to be cold for shivers covered her naked skin. The little of what he could see. It was a pleasurable torture. One he never wished to end.

''It is. But look at her Hades, though you already do, she is so innocent. I do not know how to call her sometimes. Kore means pure, it means innocence. And she is all of those things.''

She was older now, she understood more than before. It pleased him.

She had an opaque complexion. He adored the way light bounced from her skin - no, it was as if she reflected it or perhaps possessed her own. When seasons changed and leaves would fall he would often stand behind her, unseen, and observe as her white, pure form happily ran from one tree to another. It was amusing to see how the child thought that by offering the ground a new flower would stop others from dying. It was nature, it was the way of things and yet she wished the paradise of spring would remain forever. Sometimes he was lucky and caught a glimpse of her while she was sleeping. It wasn't her best feature - for nothing replaced that life in her eyes- but during those moments he could come out of the shadows and sit close.

Sometimes Hades allowed himself the privilege of touching her hair; it was silky, it was straight. So straight. Just like water. Of course she would stir and turn around but he always remained, watching her. Persephone seemed so  
fragile and though nothing could have harmed her in the sanctuary her mother created, he delighted in the idea that he was in some sense her protector. It was a great, foolish thought for the one thing that nymphs actually feared here was him. And when she woke up he would disappear immediately to return to her mother's side.

And he would ask how old she was. He always asked. The answer always changed and sometimes it warmed him.

''She is fourteen.'' Demeter once said. ''Isn't she beautiful Hades?''

''More than I could say.'' He breathed. ''No longer a girl.''

''That's only your opinion. She is still a child; my child. Forever she will remain like this. Young, innocent and perfect. What lies outside my forest isn't for her to see. You know as well as I do that no one would ever cherish and accept her but me. As harsh as it sounds she is an unwanted bastard - if only on one part.'' Demeter never tired of reminding him how the little nymph in appearance would never leave.

For some reason it unnerved him deeply. Would the child always stay one? But wasn't it exactly what he dreamed of? The perfect flower she was to remain forever untouched and innocent, a child to feast eyes upon but to never approach, a dear being to protect while never been seen. He didn't understand what was happening and so he watched.

He watched as her hair became longer and was braided by other nymphs. Oh, and what a sight it was. She had cut it on a whim and now the blonde tresses were growing back to her waist. She had thick hair that carried the scent of never-ending spring. Sometimes, while bored or lost in thoughts, she would lie on the grass and the most exquisite sight was then offered fir his hungry eyes. Slowly a blue flower, and then a red one, would grow around her head, creating a little crown. She played at being a queen while so many men could have actually made her one.

He himself could have thrown jewels and gold to her feet to only see her - just once in a while, in years even- take them in her fair hand and laugh as she did with the flower crown. That mockery of royalty. When nymphs played, he could not advert his gaze and Demeter would often laugh at him.

''Take one, whichever pleases you the most,'' She would offer. ''They are all so ignorant and young.''

Sometimes he accepted though most of the time declined with a shake of the head. He never had the heart to tell the woman that it was her daughter he was following with his eyes. It didn't seem right, it just didn't. And when the girl would question a nymph that had recently returned from him, he felt guilt and left, unable to hear more. It was too much to bear to see her blue eyes widen as more and more knowledge fell on her. Once she asked about kissing and the nymph explained. And she listened. And she laughed.

And he had to get away.

He watched as her body developed, as she grew taller and slimmer. Gone were the childish blush on her cheeks, it was replaced by a womanly paleness. She was thin, perhaps too much. More than once had he caught a glimpse of her naked form in the lake from behind. Oh, he never looked on purpose, it simply happened. And though it was hard to look away, to not admire her slender legs, her non-existent stomach and almost-flat chest, he did. It was out of respect. He felt as if he owned more than that to the beautiful child that he watched grow.

''How old is she?'' He would ask again in a voice hoarse with emotion.

And Demeter, smiling, would only laugh. ''Fourteen still, Hades.''

''But time passed.''

''It is a little different here. But she will never change.''

The answer pleased him, more than he could actually admit. Even to himself.

He watched as her mind slowly filled with questions of all kind. Why can't I see what lies ahead, a little bit farther than the forest? Why is it so cold sometimes right here, mother, just in front of you? What is Tartarus like? But those were innocent for there were far worse ones. Why is there no man with us? Or even; what is a man like? How he longed to just come out of the shadows, stop being unseen and invisible to everyone here because Demeter ordered so, and talk. Just talk to her. It wasn't such a great sin, now wasn't it? But it was true, sometimes he was cold and she wore nothing more than a light shift. Such confused thoughts.

It was hard to think about answers when her barely clothed chest rose up and down in a fast motion because of too much running. Perhaps it was for the best that he remained a stranger to her, someone whose name she knew but never saw. Yes, it was for the best. Some things, some masterpiece, were better to be seen from  
afar. Unless one didn't mind to loose control. And how close he was to it, how close! The way she looked at herself using water as a mirror, the way she jumped from one foot to another... It was too much to handle. The mere sight of her fair skin made him smile.

It was then that he stopped calling her a beautiful child. Because no longer was she one.

He watched as with other nymphs she sometimes wandered to the very end of her mother's forest. She would stay there and look, simply look, never had the thought of leaving crossed her pure mind. No, of course not, she was a good girl and he knew it. Perhaps Demeter would have been enraged if he told her that and so he didn't utter a word about her daughter's explorations. She would stand there and laugh, and imagine, talking all the time, how life must be behind that tree, that last cherry tree.

Some of her companions affirmed it was nothing worth of being discovered, other almost pushed her curiosity to its' limits. Her hesitant feet would make one step and then another, she would approach the cherry tree, touch its' flowers, inhale the scent of yet unborn fruits and run away. She always ran away, giggling.

Her lily-white legs were always bare now that she was grown up.

None of the nymphs cared about clothing and somehow it never affected him. Until _she_ grew and adopted their habits.

But it was hot here in Demeter's forest and no men ever came. He was the only who visited from time to time.

It surprised him when Demeter affirmed that maybe it was time to present her some suitor, though she was still unsure. Where was the mother who wished for her daughter to remain an innocent girl of sixteen and to never change ?

''You wish for her to get married ?'' He asked then, unsure why the mere thought of her belonging to someone was stinging.

Demeter laughed freely, loudly. Gently she reached to pat his cold hand. ''Everyone keeps asking the question. I want them to think that yes while in fact she will never be a man's possession. You will help to spread the rumour, now won't you Hades ?''

''If someone asks me I'll send them to you.''

It pleased him more than he allowed himself to acknowledge that Demeter intended to keep her daughter away from everyone. Away from other men.

She had this way of moving that simply entranced him. It wasn't graceful; it wasn't even beautiful – in the purest sense of the word. Her steps were heavy and more than once did she fall on the ground, afraid of crushing a flower while trying to avoid it. There was just so much innocence in that very gesture, so much warmth and life. She was light and he was the moth attracted to it.

With time she succumbed to the nymph's ritual to braid their hair by the lake's shore. They would wander around the forest at day and once it was dark sit and decorate their manes with them. It was a pleasant sight though he always preferred when she refused the offer and left alone, and her hair would be carried by the wind. It created some sort of veil behind her, if that even made any sense, and an aura of pure innocence. He longed to touch it but only stared.

There were also times when she was mad because Demeter refused to take her to the Olympus. It was amusing to see colour raise to her pale porcelain cheeks while she turned away. She always remained silent, never going against her mother's wishes. Of course she came to acknowledge that she had no place there and wasn't someone to be seen, but it still hurt her. He could tell by the way she would throw rock after rock into the lake with a gloomy expression. Her eyes were then sad.

Eventually others –apart from him and her mother – began to notice her. It was impossible to remain unseen and unknown forever. Many tried to talk to her and certain even seemed to please the young maiden, however Demeter always sent them away.

''Now, isn't she entrancingly beautiful ?'' Hermes would ask. ''Just look at her.''

''She is.'' He breathed. How could he deny what was obvious ? What made him ache day after day ? ''But she is also very kind.''

''I do not know her, her mother allows no one near. How come you can approach her while I can't ?''

''I am her uncle.'' He would answer to everyone, not only to Hermes. It was the reply that made them smile or demand help. However he always refused.

She didn't even know him.

More than once did he caught a glimpse of her giggling with other nymphs. Curious, he would then approach and listen, leaning against a tree. Her voice was young and high-pitched, like the one of a bird.

''He was beautiful,'' The young maiden said, ''His eyes were kind and his heart seemed warm. I do not understand why my mother refused him too.''

''He pleased you !'' A water nymph giggled. ''There was a man I once knew that was like that. But a mortal, unfortunately.''

''How sad,'' Persephone's eyes widened, ''You loved him ? He was good ?''

The minx laughed freely. ''He was handsome, so very handsome. The body of a God. Alas it wasn't forever ! I still remember how he used to run his lips down my neck.''

From where he stood he easily saw the blush appear slowly but surely on her cheeks. Somehow the conversation didn't seem fitting for such a pure being her. As the nymph explained and laughed and described, she grew uncomfortable and eventually waved her goodbye. And he followed her; unable to bear the thought that someone was actually on her mind. It seemed impossible.

Wasn't she a daughter of the forest, knowing no one but nymphs, those feather-like creatures who never gave a second thought to other possibilities than play and braid their hair all day long ? How could she think about man when so little were presented to her ? Was she so desperate for company ? It was deeply unnerving that he could not approach her and talk.

And when alone in the night he silently questioned himself why he cared so much about her, he would always give the same answer. Because he watched her grow. It was only normal that he felt some affection toward the beautiful child that no longer was one.

Her father never cared, he didn't even remember her name clearly and when he once reminded him of her nothing but laughing ensued.

''What do you wish to know about that girl ?'' Zeus inquired. ''Did she caught your eye?''

Indeed. He couldn't lie anymore. ''It is true. What do you plan on doing with her ? She has no place here, at the Olympus.''

''Nor will she have one. Demeter cares well for her, Hades, and has no intention on letting her out of that paradise of hers. And it's perfect that way; I don't see her, she doesn't see me.''

''You want her to stay forever there.'' He commented dryly.

''What, Hades, you have something on your mind ? Feel free to tell me about it.'' His brother smirked. ''If you want the girl you can have her.''

It caught him off guard. He spent years watching her change, laugh and play. Years dreaming, simply imagining, what it would be like to share a little of her warmth, to have that light of hers illuminate his domain under the earth. And now the object of such deep longing was offered to him almost nonchalantly, as if it would be nothing to rip away from her everything she knew and loved. Her mother, the sun, the warmth she cherished so. There weren't real, living birds under the earth, nothing there sang. Rivers of fresh water were absent with only the Styx as a pitiful replacement. Oh yes, it would be awful indeed to bring her.

But the idea was so appealing and when he considered it not a morsel of guilt was felt by him.

''I'll think about it.'' He rasped.

It tormented him. Awfully so. He neglected Demeter for months and months, knowing very well that if he set feet in her forest, _her_ scent, _her_ smell, _her_ sight wouldn't leave him alone for a long time. It was foolish and simply desperate but once a flower escaped Persephone's hair. Unable to resist the need to touch her any longer, he seized the flower with trembling hands and disappeared. It was a pitiful and cruel reminder of everything she was. The colourful petals were her appearance, so joyful, so beautiful. The scent was the perfume she carried; the one of spring, it always followed her. The death of the plant was a warning that a creature of light could not survive there where no sun was seen.

And still he didn't care. The Elysium could replace what she knew as her mother's forest. No one deserved to live in such a place but she. He was ready to throw the paradise itself to her feet if only she allowed him to bask in her light – just once in a while. Was he asking for too much ? When he promised Zeus to think, think he did. No, it wasn't as if he gave the idea a thought once in a while – it became an obsession, one too difficult to control.

If he accepted she would be with him, here, in mere hours. Demeter wouldn't know nor would she dare to descend here, where life wasn't present. And her mother controlled her all the time, she was treated like a petulant child whenever she asked to just see the Olympus – and it was her right even though no place for her was present. On his part…He could give her more liberty, he could offer, show and give all the things she ever wanted. Wasn't it a good alternative ?

When Demeter inquired why he had been avoiding her for so long, he didn't find an answer because as his lips tried desperately to move to form an answer, his eye caught a divine sight. _She_ was lying in the middle of a meadow, completely alone, wearing nothing more than a shift. And the shift in question was so light, so awfully pale…The wind mocked him; every time it blew more and more of her legs were offered for his hungry gaze. And her arms were bare to the shoulders. So intoxicating it was.

''How old is she now ?'' He would ask his sister in a trembling voice. The question became a pure obsession; the only thing that mattered was for the answer to change.

And when it did he smiled.

''Sixteen.'' Demeter replied absently.

''She is grown up now.'' He would try.

''It won't change anything, Hades.''

His control was snapping, slowly but surely. He was growing angry with Demeter for treating a young woman like a child and simply hated Zeus for neglecting the precious being that was his daughter. It was as if no one really cared about her; about what she wanted and dreamed of.

No one but him. Oh, he saw the way she looked at that last Cherry Tree that was in a way a door to freedom, he witnessed how her eyes sparkled with curiosity every time a nymph would happily babble about her new lover. She knew nothing, nobody talked to her without fear of being punished by her severe mother. The nymphs that surrounded her weren't friends; they were something close to shadows and slaves, following her, making sure she was for ever amused and laughed when she did. Echoes, empty bodies they were.

It wasn't the true affection that she so longed for, merely a cruel replacement. At least it was what he imagined. One would make himself believe everything to appease guilt; he wasn't an exception. She was constantly there, reminding him of the bargain he could still accept. It was tempting and wrong…but still. Nothing eased the torment; it was only getting worse day after day. Demeter who asked to talk to him, Zeus who never missed an occasion to remind that the deal was still on.

But could he do it ? The question wasn't even if he wanted; because he did. Would guilt be too much to bear ?

''Have you thought about what I offered ?'' Zeus asked once they were alone. ''Come Hades, surely you did.''

''You are right,'' He agreed quietly, ''I thought about her. I couldn't look at flowers in _her_ hair without thinking that she could be mine, I couldn't talk to Demeter without imagining what it would be like to never see her again and yet take her daughter away, I couldn't damn a soul without wondering if _she_ would approve it.''

''And what will be your answer ? It is a fair deal I offer you; we will both be satisfied, and who knows, maybe even that little maiden will come to love what you have to offer. What women doesn't dream to wear a crown ?''

_She never needed a crown of gold and silver. Her flowers were enough_.

And yet Zeus continued. ''You will have what you so long for and I will be free of a child I never wanted. There are questions that aren't meant to be answered.''

''I am tempted to say yes,'' he whispered, ''You can not imagine how. But will not a flower die if deprived of sun ?''

''You can offer her Elysium. Nothing competes against paradise. She'll find far more flowers and birds in that place and because it is your domain you could make them sing for her. Think Hades, think about it. She will love it. You told me how fond she was of beauty.''

And each remark he made drew him closer and closer to the precipice. It was like dancing at the edge of a knife; dangerous and yet so entrancing.

''Perhaps you're right.'' He agreed quietly. Oh how he wished that indeed he was.

Never had he witnessed _her_ tears before and he wasn't sure if he could deal with them.

''Take her before I decide to give her to someone else,'' his brother pressed, ''More than one had already requested her hand.''

The mere thought of her belonging to someone that wasn't him was frustrating. It was an egoistic wish he had; or she was his or nobody's. The edge came closer and closer, he willingly made a step toward it.

''You wouldn't dare.'' He murmured.

''Oh, but I would. What will be your answer ?''

''Yes.''

With the shake of a hand the fate of a young maiden was sealed. And if he thought otherwise once he felt no guilt now. Only a strange, maddening relief.


	2. Chapter 2: The Narcissus

**Chapter 2**** : The Narcissus' curse**

She always was a curious child ; and it certainly didn't change once she reached the so-called womanhood. There were many flowers in Demeter's forest. Colourful ones, strange ones, big and small ones. But what they all had in common was their beauty. The giggling nymphs were always entranced when sometimes the sun lingered a moment on a plant, making its' petals open under their inquisitive gaze. Some after hearing such tales could have affirmed it was bluff or a gruesome lie ; but no, here Demeter controlled everything. The place was magic, simple yet strangely passionate.

However one color lacked and it was the shade of white. Oh, some little minxes were almost opaque with milky skin – and _she_ wasn't an exception – but none of the flowers bore the quality.

It was what drew her attentions. She was playing, combing her hair and helping other laughing girls with their thick manes. They were in a meadow, a rather illuminated one, so much it was almost ironic. Poor moths attracted to the flame. What danger could there be, what horror? And so they all eyed the little white lilly-like stranger that the wind caressed softly. The flower wasn't far away, in the reach of a hand and still no one dared to touch it. Pure white, symbol to innocence it was. Then why there was such hesitance in the way the young maiden gazed upon it ?

She was as weary as she was curious, he could almost sense the way her fingers throbbed in need to touch the delicate petals. But like the good girl she was she remained still. Persephone stubbornly refused to approach the precipice. Why, oh why ? It tormented him so. There was no danger in falling; he was ready to catch her little form.

It was another gift from his brother. Rather an idea, a plan that wouldn't make the crime look like one. If she decided to ass the Narcissus flower to her collection it would be her choice. As it would be hers to descend to the Underworld by his side. The fair floret was a possession of his; if so wasn't it only right that the virgin who would perhaps take it should belong to him as well ? Though knowing nothing about it, she would either succumb to him or reject what he was offering. Throwing to her feet.

And it was far more than a crown made of the purest gold rather than the one composed of hibiscuses and a promise of a kingdom of her own. It was also freedom and love. The kind of love her mother shielded her against and the kind of liberty the young one never even dreamed of. Yes, those thoughts comforted him, like this he was more of a hero than a villain.

Such little, white hands she had. The nymphs were now bathing, slowly and languishingly casting their clothes aside, uncovering more and more of some radiant skin and womanly forms. She wasn't with them though, instead she was laying on the ground, close to the deadly key that would open the door for him. So very slowly her fingers brushed one petal after another, a laugh escaped her lips and she rolled away.

It was torture and not even a blissful one like before when the blonde used to approach the cold she felt but couldn't see. Of course he could have damned the flower and act on his own free will but then…then there would be guilt, and it was something that he hadn't felt in a long time. And Hades simply wasn't sure he could now.

_Touch it, pull it out_, he prayed watching her creep closer once more. The wind had misplaced her shift and her knees were bare for his eyes to feast upon. With a moan he looked away. It was necessary for the madness slowly possessed him.

She had taken off the crown of flowers and was now observing it. The quick glances she gave to the unknown specimen didn't go unnoticed. It was white, it was bright, it could make such a perfect ornament. The way she caressed the narcissus was almost sensual and the little gasps that passes her lips weren't that innocent to him at that moment. Of course for Persephone – that Kore as her mother called her with delight – those sighs were nothing more than an unsuppressed longing for beauty while for him…

It was an inner battle and he couldn't decide what he wanted more ; her mind or her body. And so every gesture she made was misunderstood, taken too seriously. But then she left and he could do nothing more than watch her departure.

The earth trembled that day.

''She didn't take the flower.''

''No.'' Hades agreed quietly. ''She didn't. The little one is a good girl, she senses danger when it is near and so never approached it. A wise decision this is.''

''If it is so,'' Zeus commented dryly, ''How shall you ever have her? Persephone will never pick the narcissus, you are wasting your time Hades.''

''She likes pretty things and is a curious child. She will pick it.'' Oh, Persephone simply had to for his sanity was about to snap.

She was laughing the next time he saw her. Alone with a nymph with wild curls, she sat close to a lake and hummed a tune absentmindedly.

''I love your hair.'' She sighed. ''Beautiful, beautiful curls you have there. It's almost as if you wear a crown. I wish mine could be like yours.'' Saying so she pulled back her own braid that had now fallen over her shoulder.

''Oh but there is a way for that.'' The girl exclaimed cheerfully. ''If you do many braids in the morning you hair shall be as curly as mine.''

''Really ?''

''Oh yes.''

In a slow gesture that filled him with a sweet ache, the girls first carefully took the flowers from her gold mane and then splashed some water on it. Soon their tunics were hugging their thin bodies so that every curve he could only dream of was visible.

''Now,'' The nymph said, ''You will have to wait some hours. But the result is worth the wait.''

''I look silly.'' Persephone laughed, throwing a quick look at herself in the water. Giggling, she pushed a rock in the lake so her reflection would no longer be there.

And at that moment he wondered what insanity possessed him so he would want to steal her. With that foolish amount of blonde tresses and a smile that spread from one ear to another, she looked like a little, little girl.

The next day she proudly paraded around with some untameable locks on her head, bouncing on her shoulders, finally ending their race at her hips. Demeter said nothing about her daughter's new game; she simply laughed and patted her head as if she were a dog of some sort. An expensive and rare one but a dog nevertheless.

Day after day she would wander in the now well known meadow and admire the little intruder. And despite his internal pleas she never picked it. Oh, she was curious and wished to do so, he could tell it by the way she acted. Persephone sighed; she shielded the flower from the other nymphs who weren't as indecisive as she was. If it had to belong to someone it had to be her; was it that her logic ? If so, he liked it.

''What do you think about this one ?'' A vague gesture was made by one of the two nymphs that were with her today.

Shrugging, the blonde averted her gaze. ''I've never seen it before.''

''Do you want it ?'' The girl questioned, her eyes already on the narcissus.

There was a long moment of silence while she frowned. He could almost see the indecision, her inner fight.

''Yes.'' She finally said in a tone he didn't recognize as belonging to her. ''Yes, I want it.''

''Then take it.'' The nymph pushed her. ''Go on, pick it before it dies.''

''I will, I will.''

And that simple promise filled him with such hope and joy he no longer cared that what he was up to was considered immoral by certain. And take it she did. It didn't happen at once, and certainly not how he expected it to be but as long as she did it he was fine with it. Eventually the nymph's pressure became unbearable and her own curiosity was eating her alive.

''It's beautiful.'' She breathed and just like this claimed the flower as hers.

* * *

''Did she take it ?'' Zeus asked. ''Come Hades, this is just getting ridiculous. How long will you go on this way ?''

''As long as it will take.'' He answered patiently, though his fingers curled into fists behind his back. ''It's a choice I'm giving her.''

Zeus laughed and stalked away. ''Really ? Will it still be choice when she will be begging you to return to the surface ? You are hilarious sometimes.''

Something gave in, in his thumb, something cracked; it _hurt_, but he delighted in it. Bringing his hand forward, Hades examined it before replacing the broken bone in its' original place.

''Your broke your finger.'' His brother commented dryly.

''So I did.''

And silence fell upon them once more. There was nothing to say, really. One criminal was trying to convince another that what he was about to commit wasn't that bad. Weren't women all across Greece claimed as wives and brides by men who they didn't even knew ? And some of them weren't even miserable. What was bad about offering a girl what her mother couldn't – wouldn't – never give her ?

''After all you are her uncle.'' Zeus finally said. ''You have the right to see her whenever you wish.''

''Yes but,'' Hades said quietly, ''Aren't you her father ? Yet I never see you around her. Demeter will never take it. Oh, I do not worry about what she could do – why should I sorrow at the increase of my kingdom ? But I'm sure many of you wouldn't approve her revenge.''

''If Demeter is your only problem; rest assured. She may be mad but to my word she will listen.''

Hades laughed. ''Yes. There you have a point.''

But then he froze before a smile of pure relief crossed his feature. Titling his head back he laughed once more; though this time it was a sound close to the one a mad man did.

''What is it ?'' Zeus inquired, watching as a bead of sweat made its' way to under Hades' attire.

And so he spoke in a husky tone; ''She picked it. Curiosity triumphed over reason. Poor girl.'' He made an exaggerated reverence. ''I'll take my leave now. Ah, such a foolish child she is.''

* * *

It would look good in her hair, she thought. Until now nymphs could only find particularly shiny and colourful flowers, never something in pastel tones or soft shades. The little yellow center with its' white petals would compliment her braid, do it justice. And very stupidly Persephone took what not hers was though offered.

The earth opened like a gaping wound the very instant she did so. Shock made her froze on the spot before she carefully opened her mouth to call the other nymphs. They weren't far, just by the river, they would hear her… In front of her stood a man. Though she never saw him, Persephone knew all too well his name.

''No,'' She shook her head like mad, crawling away, ''No, I'm not dead. I can't be.''

''You aren't.'' He softly replied, trying in vain to ease her fears.

''What are you doing here ?'' She whispered.

If she managed to get on her feet – if only ! – then she could run. The river was so close, so very close. Oh, why didn't Cyane or another of those giggling girls yet arrived to check on her ? Mother had always been so strict – they always had to accompany her, not once had she been allowed to be alone. It is for your safety, Demeter used to say. And even though she always found the statement silly now it couldn't be more right.

The man made another step toward her and then she actually screamed. The yell didn't last long. Air was forced out of her lungs as _something_ unbelievably hard pressed itself into her stomach. She screamed, she fought, she even bit but that something lifted her as if her weight was nonexistent. It took a certain amount of time for her to associate the something of her mind with the man who ruled death.

''No, please, I'm not dead or dying.'' She sobbed.

''You aren't.'' He once again confirmed.

When he took her wrist she jerked back fiercely, a loud cry escaping her throat in the process.

''Those horses are dead.'' Persephone murmured, as if in a daze. ''I can't go with them.''

The soft tug on her hand spoke otherwise. Eventually her knees gave way as he dragged her toward the creatures she did not wish to see. Their manes were absent and while they stood and moved, no breathing sound came from them. The feel of his skin against hers was more than she could handle. His flesh was cold, awfully so. Was it from the time spent in the kingdom of the dead ? It was plausible.

And that very thought made her already confused mind wonder if it was indeed a deceased man holding her. But no, it couldn't be it. Dead had waxy, yellow skin that was repulsive to the touch and bore the smell that no one could handle. The hands on her weren't like this. She opened her mouth to scream but the man gripped her by the hair and forced her face against his chest.

It was met by soft fabric that killed and simply muffled her cries. A soft command and the earth was moving once again. Persephone tried desperately to pull away from him ; her mouth was dry, her throat sore from all the yelling, but she couldn't understand what was happening and so accept it. It was black, awfully so, and the brief impression that her heart had fell into the depth of her stomach soon made her sick.

Terrified and sulking she realized that the man's arms had loosened the grip they had on her, and as quickly as she could the girl distanced herself from her dark companion. Nothing could be seen, only felt, and so searching for the chariot's door she tried to open it without success. A low chuckling was heard somewhere from the right.

''I know who you are.'' She suddenly cried out, unable to bare this silence much longer. ''You are mother's brother.''

The man in the shadows said nothing for a long time. All that could be heard was the rhythmic taping of his fingers against the seat.

''So I am.'' He finally answered so softly she wasn't sure he had spoken at all. ''You are right, daughter of Spring.''

''Is it mother that sends you ? She told me nothing of it.''

He laughed. ''Oh child, your mother would never send me for you. But you must trust me, I shan't hurt you.''

Tears he could not see burnt her cheeks. Crying in front of a man was considered shameful by the nymphs, but while there was darkness it was surely a sin to not take advantage of it. And so silently she cried.

''Take me back.'' She said coldly. ''Take me back that very instant, uncle. Believe me when I say that mother won't be happy.''

He only sighed. ''I believe you Persephone.''

The way her name slid from is tongue made her shiver. It was honey and milk, liquid gold, praise in its' most basic state. Slack, satisfied breath was heard through the darkness. Something soft caressed her bare shoulders, but Persephone refused to even think what it could be.

''Oh you coward,'' She spoke through clenched teeth, ''You take me away and then you mock me. And now, I cannot even see your face.''

''Nor can I see yours.'' He echoed. ''Rest assured, the blackness isn't permanent. It will go away eventually.''

And he didn't lie. When light was seen again – though it wasn't as warm and welcoming as she knew it – it hit her by surprise. Screams and agonizing pleas were heard. It hurt to witness the pain and yet not be able to help.

''What is it ?'' She gasped. ''Someone needs help.''

''Ignore them.'' The tall black shape he was answered. ''They all wish for forgiveness but no one will have it. There are some things that cannot be forgotten and tossed apart.''

''I don't understand you.'' She confessed. When a bird was hurt, when its' wing was broken, she always took care of the poor animal. Was it his fault that to survive there was the need to kill a smaller creature ? It was the way of things and though sometimes she bit her lips at the cruelty around her, Persephone understood that nothing could be changed.

''Come closer.'' The man instructed. ''Come, do not fret. I am sure you prefer my hands to theirs.''

He was right, no matter how reluctant the girl was to admit it. Slowly, she slid on the seat until her knees met his and she gasped. Something clung to the chariot and even to the horses as they walked nonchalantly. Sometimes faces were seen but it was mostly hands just as the man had said. They weren't clear and looked more like a fog.

''As long as there is no compassion in your for them, they shan't bother you. Rest cold for a short while.''

Persephone gasped at the statement. ''But how can you stay indifferent when so many are asking for your help ? Isn't it what a ruler is supposed to do ? My lord, this is your kingdom.''

He didn't answer her, merely grabbed her shaking white hands in his, entwining their fingers as he spoke. No matter how hard she tried to pull away he ignored her completely.

''There is a man that killed his family, his whole family,'' He began softly, ''It was an act of madness he kept repeating, of madness and nothing else. He was enchanted, he said to me, by a Goddess. Which I do not remember. The rest of his life he wallowed in self-loathing while trying to make up for the murder. Where do you think I sent him, Persephone ?''

''A lifetime of suffering, of trying to be forgiven by those who are no longer near. The Elysium, am I right ?'' She spoke all too quickly.

He shook his head. ''A murder is a murder still. You can wrap a dagger in silk but it will still be a weapon. A dangerous one, a thing that can kill. I threw him into the pit.''

Her nails dug into his cold skin. The action came as a surprise to him, and out of reflex he let go of her hand. Immediately, she was at the other carriage's end.

''What did I do for you to hate me so, uncle ?'' Persephone spat harshly. ''You are taking me through Tartarus without even a thought for those who suffer; am I to end in the pit too ? What are my sins ?''

''You committed none,'' The man answered simply, ''As about Tartarus do not fret, gentle one. Never again shall you see a place like this. You are to be with birds and the sun, among those creatures of light that you call nymphs.''

''Then why did you take me away ?''

''Ah, but you picked the narcissus.'' He laughed and his hand hovered in the air in a vain attempt to touch her hair.

She remained silent. ''The flower was yours ?'' The blonde spoke finally. ''You have my pardon, Lord, I did not know.''

''Do not apologize, I wanted you to have it.''

But as the descent continued the light changed. How could light even exist in such a place as this ? Helios had no control here, and life was absent. And still the place was bright. Music so soft was heard that it couldn't be classified as music at all; inaudible murmuring, light purrs of satisfaction and songs of the birds. But where were they, those birds ? None could be seen but their melody was carried by a wind that wasn't real. It caressed her face, she felt the air and it was slightly damp. Unfortunately it was false; everything was a beautiful lie.

''Look to your right, my child.'' He commanded and she obeyed.

Water. Water everywhere. Everything looked so pure, so nice and unbelievably tempting. But there was no naiad, the spirits that inhabited and gave life to the fountains, rivers, swamps.

''Isn't it beautiful ?'' He asked, gesturing vaguely to the grass, the little cascade, a pound. ''It's called Elysium. Ideal happiness, no grief or sorrow, everything is forgotten until just joy remains. It can be all yours, I offer it to you. Just think, aren't those songs sweet to your ears ? They are to everyone here; many would kill to end in such a place. Only the virtuous stay here, awaiting a new life. Their stay is brief but yours could last for ever. Light never goes away, dark does not fall with its' dangers. Think, just think about it, pure maiden, wouldn't you like such a place ?''

And whispering she answered. ''The birds do sing and the water flows. But there is no life. I love the sight but it's nothing more than an illusion. Nothing can replace a flower's perfume, the way the wind caresses the trees and laughs of the naiads. If I step in the river no one will play with me and order to go away because it is not mine to be in.''

''There is no possession here, you are free.'' He said.

''I do not want such a freedom.'' She murmured. ''There is no warmth, no life. One cannot live by pretending.''

The happy hum of voices that vaguely reminded bees to her disappeared before complete silence encircled her once again. The Elysian Fields were far behind. It was a dead place but she without a doubt preferred a pretty environment to die than the once that lay ahead. And ahead there was nothing but darkness; suffocating and never-ending. Sometimes the horses stopped and nuzzled their bony and almost inexistent noses against each other; such a normal, kind gesture it was. If she closed her eyes, Persephone could almost pretend that the sounds were those of a normal animal.

The air roared around them for the pace of those four corpses had quickened. She suddenly felt naked and revealed as the cold caressed every curve of her body; the loose cloth hugged her closely and it was more than inappropriate. But he didn't look; the man's gaze was averted. Was it politesse, was he respecting her modesty ? So little did. It was somehow comforting.

And then they came to a halt. There was a floor that awaited nothing more than to welcome her nude feet. Hesitantly she stepped out of the carriage. The marble wasn't cold; its' soft warmth caressed her skin sensually.

''How do I return home ? Mother will search earth and sky for me.''

Many statues were present, some she recognized as gods of the Olympus that she never saw but heard of nonetheless. Even Demeter was amongst them, standing close to Zeus. But they were all made of dark stone, the kind that was everything but expensive. A decoration and nothing more, that's what they represented.

And of course there was fire. Fire lighting a hallway that led deeper into the ground. One step more and I shall faint, she thought bitterly.

''Look, isn't it amusing ?'' He said instead and beckoned her forward with one finger.

Reluctant she approached and her arm was seized. It wasn't a tight embrace but a rather unwelcome one. Close to a torch he took her and as she watched, his hands passed through the flame. The trick was known by everyone, even by the mortals. If the gesture was fast, the hot tongues didn't eat your skin.

But his hands stayed in place and with wide eyes she observed how nothing helped.

''Why isn't your skin burning ?'' The blonde whispered. ''Flames aren't merciful.''

''It obeys me. Here I am their master and they shall never hurt you. Give me your hand, just try it for once.'' And like a rag doll she obeyed.

The sensation was a cold one; it didn't even warm her frozen flesh a little. And then she remembered the frost on the ground in her mother's forest.

''So even the fire is dead here. How saw.'' Persephone murmured. ''Is there no life? You killed my flowers; I saw them, I found them when you passed near. They were covered in ice.

''It is true I visited your forest. But never as a thief, I was a guest Persephone do not think low of me.'' He answered.

Through the hall he led her. The walls were engraved with prayers in a language she did not understand; they were probably in his honor. It surprised him that there were indeed followers of the God of the dead. How could anyone appreciate the cold, the emptiness and loneliness of this place ? Those who honored Aphrodite dreamed to see her, if only once, for her beauty was so great. But this man, what could they want of him ?

In despair she leaned against the cold stone, running her hands against it as he stood behind her. She could have sworn there was a smirk upon his face, but perhaps it was just her imagination.

''It is so dead…'' She kept repeating. ''I need-just one…''

''Do not try, daughter of spring.'' He echoed. ''Where death is there can be no life. Your flowers will die as you will if you continue to try to grow something. You'll be only tired, please stop now.''

''You stole my gift.'' Persephone exclaimed. ''How could you do such a thing ? It is not yours to take.''

He moved closer, as if trying to take her in his arms. The gesture vaguely reminded her of a scene she once witnessed. Two mortals were fighting; father and son. The boy was young and careless, while the man kept on trying to make him see reason. Eventually the son cried and the father had helped him to smile again.

She only slapped him hands away once they came too close.

''I did not, Persephone.'' He said softly in a voice made of silk and velvet. ''I am sorry, but you cannot create life where there is none.''

His pale face didn't change when she asked about the date of her return, nor did he grant her an answer when she inquired of whatever she was doing here. Her hand he grabbed as he almost dragged her half-protesting form through the corridors. And finally there they were. The blonde's eyes widened at the grandeur, at the beauty of the place. There was silk and velvet, gold and rubies, everything she knew about but had never seen.

''Mother will not like it, she hates when I go away. And while you are my uncle I doubt it makes any difference to her.'' It was supposed to affect him, to push him to the precipice so her questions would finally be answered.

Instead her head was titled backwards and he chin seized between thumb and finger. His eyes drank in the sight of her while his free hand caressed the milky flesh of her cheeks.

''Your mother will not come for it is your father – the God of Gods – who gave me permission to bring you here, fair one.'' Her lips opened in protest but he silenced her. ''And now look to your left, what do you see ?'' And just like this he let go of her.


	3. Chapter 3: Elysium behind a veil

**Chapter 3**** : Elysium behind a veil**

His movements were great, just as his persona, they inspired fear and perhaps even respect, though for her the notion was lost. There was an eager excitement in his eyes; the one a father or a teacher showed whenever getting ready to awe the timid pupil. They ran from side to side, up and then down, those black orbs of his, though never lingered a moment too long on her. He avoided with a certain fright her visage; so pale and more alive than ever. It seemed foolish to say so considering where they were and yet there weren't other words to fit the description. Her mouth was slightly open and that pink lower lip trembled in time with every breath of his. No, he couldn't look for every time he did pangs of guilt and longing assaulted him.

And so he did what most men did when trying to distract a frightened girl; the monster seduced the prey, the hunter offered the deer an apple before reaching for the crossbow. His hand she ignored, slapping it quite harshly. It should have not but it amused him as much as saddened. His court nod was simply ignored and she backed away on her own until the wall stopped her. It caressed her skin in a way he wished he could, making the white material rise up and down. A pained gasp passed the threshold of his lips before he had the mind to stop himself. And just when the sound was heard her pale eyes widened even more.

''I see nothing.'' She said and it was so quiet he had to stare at her lips to interpret the meaning.

''What do you mean ?'' He breathed. ''There are so many things to look upon. Spare a glance to the silk, the jewels, perhaps the gold if it is what pleases you. But there are more gifts, the finest, if those aren't what you desire.''

She moved. Slowly at first but she moved. His eyes followed her wearily as she took some careful and hesitant steps to the right; where he instructed her to look a mere moment ago. So carelessly she lifted a scrap of silk and instantly dropped it; the material pooled at her feet like water and it was all he could do to not throw himself there too.

''I don't need it.'' She replied softly.

''But you want it.''

He remembered the way she looked at the nymphs – oh; those were free to wander around and out of Demeter's forest. Sometimes they came back with gifts from who he assumed were they lovers. They played with the silk and she touched it, burning with curiosity and a certain jealousy. It wasn't perceptible to one who saw her for the first time but he – _he_ – learned to read that fair face. The way her blond brow furrowed, her nose wrinkled slightly and her lips curled up in a mocking smile.

The child played with her hands and nothing more was said. He wished to approach her but couldn't bring even a finger of his to move. It was as if her word and hers alone held the power to stop him.

''It doesn't matter.'' Persephone whirled around so only her back would be offered to his view.

And suddenly he wasn't sure anymore that he knew her. Years of observation brought nothing but an unhealthy obsession. Just with this simple remark she had killed and revived him at once. Where was the girl who desired those white pearls that often coated the naiad's wet hair ? Where was she ? The being that stood in front of him now seemed like a stranger.

''Those are presents.'' He answered a bit more harshly than in his intent. ''It shouldn't worry you whether you want them or not. Gifts are to be taken. I do not even require an acknowledgement that they are to your liking; your eyes do not lit, there is no use in pretending and lying that it is otherwise. Just take them, Persephone, take them.''

''If it's a gift then you can as well take me to my mother with it. I'm sure she will be quite happy to accept the chest with all of its content.'' Poor dear, presents were never hers to behold, always Demeter who never allowed her daughter to have them in fear of spoiling.

''No, no,'' He murmured and in an instant all good resolutions were gone. How he had the time or strength to come to her side he never knew, it just happened. It was without hesitation that his hand imprisoned hers and even though she struggled he kept her close. ''Please do not be so melancholic, cherished one. Those are yours, you may do whatever you want with them.'' The thought to add something stern about her mother crossed his mind but he pushed it away tiredly. ''There is nothing to hurt you here, you are safe and free.''

''Really ?'' And again she was facing him. For a brief second, oh so brief and delicious, warmth spread through him and the faintest trace of a smile grazed his lips. ''Then I can go back, my Lord ?'' He was no fool. The title was added to praise him but had the contrary effect. Everything around became cold and even though he was used to it a shiver ran down his spine. ''Right now ?''

With each hopeful large smile and each happy blinking of the eyes she poured more and more poison on the wound, torturing him without a rest. Even her little hand relaxed in his and its softness made him uneasy.

''Why do you wish to go back ?'' Hades asked instead; his voice coming out low and hoarse. ''You were treated like a child in that forest, you weren't allowed to see the Olympus or even make a step without your mother's permission. I saw the way you stared at the dreadful Cherry Tree. Do not deny it, you wished to go and explore, you wished for at least some freedom. And now here I am, but a fateful dog at your feet, Persephone, offering this very liberty to you. I am offering it to you in a box of gold and silver, wrapped in velvet if you prefer, I am offering it with every thing that I have. Is it not what you wanted ?''

Then some deep emotion overtook him for he reached to cup her face but as violently as a wounded animal fighting for its life, she jerked away. The peacefulness was gone from her eyes, replaced with black anger but mostly fright. She shook like an animal left in the rain and her hands rubbed the bare skin of her exposed arms as her mouth opened and closed; impotent for words.

''Oh you coward, you scoundrel,'' She whispered, ''You entertain me with pretty words and beautiful offerings and yet you evade every question of mine. You take another path, you refuse to answer truthfully. What do you want of me ? Go on, tell me or let me be for I am tired and afraid and wish for nothing more than return to my mother.''

Every word reached its target and cut deep. While he wasn't one to talk more than necessary and words rarely passed through his lips when it wasn't needed; this time truly nothing came out. She was right, of course she was, and he wasn't by any means considered a good person. He judged, sometimes too cruelly, but no one ever said anything. This was his domain and it was closed to others. In solitude he couldn't contemplate the matter whether he was good or not for there was no one to compare to if not a mirror. And that clever thing always lied masterfully.

''I believe it could be considered as an arrangement of some sort,'' She gave him a blank stare, ''Please walk with me.''

And even though she was reluctant she slowly approached him though his offered hand was cruelly denied. Her exterior was cold but she trembled; after all the roles hadn't been inversed. He still was the wolf and she the lamb even though her brows were knitted in anger caused by incomprehension. What he was reluctant to admit to himself was that she was right about everything. It was one thing to bring her here and completely another to explain the reason behind such a grotesque act of pure madness.

''Please.'' He asked and took her hand in his. Immediately she turned her face away – was it out of disgust ? Hades refused to dwell on it for another instant. Slowly he brought it to rest against his chest and then slid it up until it met his cheek. His eyes closed as he savored her softness, her warmth.

Every dream, every little hope he might have had at this very moment shattered once his eyelids fluttered open. Her hand rested limply in his, just like a dead thing, and she was staring at her feet with such a lack of emotion that it sickened him.

''I just don't understand you.'' She told him neutrally. ''You growl at me and then you touch me with affection and care. What _do_ you want ?''

He would have fallen on his knees but something kept him in place; pride perhaps. It stubbornly refused to go away and he had no urge to force it. The blush that always decorated her white face disappeared leaving its place to a sickening blueness; little shivers ran up and down her arms and body. The envy to put his arms around her was consuming and yet it was impossible. He knew that another neutral, if not afraid, look from her would be rather painful.

''I am giving you all of this and more,'' Greatly he gestured away, ''And I am giving you this throne. It isn't as warm as the sun-kissed grass you used to sit on but at least holds more power. I promise that no harm will come to you; you may do as you want with me, every wish of yours I will fulfill-''

And for the first time the calm, timid girl cut someone mid-sentence. She pulled her hand from his and hid it behind her back. ''You wish to marry me, it is that then.'' She stated violently. ''Why didn't you come to see my mother ? Why abducting me and refusing to let me go ? It isn't how one is supposed to act; you are no better than a thief.''

''If you take it that way,'' He bellowed, all gentleness gone, ''Then, dear one, your mother that you love so much is one too.''

Her jaw dropped open and she reacted quickly, her palm trying to make contact with the cheek it had caressed a moment ago. Her wrist was seized mid-air, painfully enough to make her squirm.

''And you dare to hit me,'' The man continued though now his tone was soft and calm and it was that calm controlled demeanor that frightened her more than his rages. ''Me, who offer you what your mother never will, you dare to try and hit me. Are you no more than a child after all, tell me, girl, are you ?''

He shook her, unnerved by the deadly silence. She said nothing when he yelled at her, she didn't even flinch when his fingers dug into the soft skin of her shoulders though he could tell it hurt her, she remained perfectly still when he backed her against the wall.

''Are you so daft that you don't see that your mother is as much of a thief as I am ? By keeping you – by imprisoning I shall say, yes I go as far as pushing my audacities to its limits – she steals. She steals from everyone who could be happy by having you by their side.'' She was nothing more than a rag doll in his hands by the time, staring at the ground and trembling uncontrollably.

And when he finally understood it, he gasped and took several steps away from her. Slowly, the girl slid down the wall, wrapping her barely controlled arms around herself and shielding her face away from him. It had never been in his intentions to hurt her; now however as he gazed at her with horror he noticed that red marks covered her skin and ugly bracelet-like bruises had proudly wrapped themselves around both of her wrists. It was current for him to loose control; everyone was accustomed to it and so little to no heed was paid to his outbursts. She was not.

''No one ever screamed at me.'' She whispered ever so softly and her voice shook with emotion. ''No one ever hurt me. But I – You insulted my mother, I…'' But she was unable to finish and so curled into a little ball on the ground and remained silent.

All pride gone he crushed beside her and reached gingerly for her sobbing form. She pushed him away violently.

''Don't touch me,'' She murmured. ''You hurt me.'' Her tear-strained face finally rose so he could look freely upon it, drinking in the awful sight that he caused.

''Persephone, sweet girl, please do not fear me,'' His own tone was close to breaking; it that was even possible.

Slowly, she murmured. ''So many times you've said it. Tell me, uncle, is it this stupid girl that you wish to marry ?''

* * *

Had he run his fingers through the soft material, imagining the way it would hug her body ? She shivered and allowed the tunic to drop to the floor, joining its pairs. She stared at the door then. Not once in the past hours had he come to knock on the light wooden door, whispering or perhaps ordering for her to come out. His words had stung, cut a deep wound into her pale flesh and then rubbed salt into it. Her fingers dug into her sides and she remained still, unable to do anything but stare into space. It had never been a secret whose daughter she was, but somehow it seemed to her that since she never saw the man he had no power over her. The girl understood now it wasn't the case and it hurt terribly.

Then she recalled other parts of their conversation. It was true; Demeter would have never allowed anyone, less a man, to take her away from the forest. And while she had experienced the desire to leave on her own, now it had vanished for good. Everything was so cold. The girl reached for the silken coverlet and wrapped it around her body. The heat coming from it wasn't real, merely a mockery which purpose was to entertain her. It was with dread and hysteric anticipation that she was filled at the moment, looking at the door. Would he come eventually ? Demand for her to finally turn the doorknob and come out ?

The Styx was a great river and even though the wish to cross it was immense, she knew it was a feat that could not be accomplished. It fuelled her desperation and suddenly a sharp pain was felt in her palms. Gasping, Persephone slowly looked down to see a few drops of blood. In madness she had dug her nails into her skin so hard it broke. The scarlet lazily drew pretty patterns on her flesh but eventually she grew sick and simply wiped her hands on the very coverlet that was keeping her warm. She remembered vaguely the talk she once had with a giggling naiad. Her eyes had been very blue, her skin dark and her hair long. She still could recall rather well her womanly curves and the way the other girls envied her.

"_He tried to force me to stay with him." She had said._

"_Why ?"_

"_He said he loved me."_

"_Did you ? Did you stay ?"_

"_Of course not. But he tried, oh how he tried. He reached out to take my wrists but, oh, he just didn't succeed in it."_

"_What happened ?"_

"_He fell into the spring and never resurfaced. His eyes had been sad, very sad, but I was tired of him."_

"_He fell ?"_

"_Well yes, he fell into my spring. You have to understand, little Kore, I was weary and unnerved."_

It took her time to understand the full potent of the nymph's words and when it hit her, it did so full force, and Persephone had cringed. This just didn't seem right. One couldn't condemn another because suddenly, the person in question was no longer entertaining enough. At the time she had trembled and sought ways to forget those words but now, as she slowly recollected memories, it served as a fire. The very one that heated her need to leave. For the first time she understood the girl's motives and approved them.

And then for the first time since the sun had disappeared she cried.

It was violent and she did nothing to control her sobs. Her mother, always so protective, was still not here. Zeus' words didn't seem to affect Demeter when they were about her only daughter; she seemed to be the only one with the power to decide of her fate. Then why was she still not here ? Had she simply agreed with his decision and gone back to the forest ? Were the giggling girls now her replacement? The door opened but she didn't hear it, for sometimes thoughts are louder than noises. And then there was a soft touch that caressed timidly her knee, soft but cold, and drawing her hands away from her face she gasped.

It was both frightening and awfully disturbing to see him like this, knowing that at every moment he could went up like a jack in the box, like a snake attacking, and sank his venomous fangs into her neck. And while poison could not be the end of her, the pain would be real, physical and so, so awful. And so she recoiled from the touch, afraid and with no more bravado left. Was it a sick tactic of his ? A plan to get her close and then administer the final shot ? The fatal one ? Perhaps I'm being punished, she thought, perhaps nourish illusions with hope and lit fire with dreams is a sin after all. Still she couldn't help but wonder if it really was meant to be like this. And while there was no light in darkness, walls were always present and it was possible to trail fingers across them until a way out was found. It would be a paradox if the contrary came to be true.

"You have to understand that I never wanted for this to be. I possess only a dim memory of you as child for all others had vanished a lifetime ago, and no longer can I recall your face when you were clinging to your mother's skirt. Perhaps were they still present I would have something to cool the flames, but it isn't so and nothing can be changed. It is impossible for the life of me to depart from what I however do have, and that is you. I too need something to cling to."

His hands outstretched, entreating, cold, but the invitation they represented did not please her. A bleak, unclear feeling passed through her and she shuddered in what could be only suppressed disgust. Vacantly, she nodded and he stared. What was more intense was unclear to her. His gaze ? The unspoken words it held ? Was it the hint of a promise she saw passing by ? Did she really want it ?

"Please," She murmured, "You must excuse me. I cannot accept the offer or the gifts for I have no desire in staying. Know that I am not saying this to hurt you anyhow, I simply cannot." Her head shook slowly as his lips parted and he was silenced once more. "You spoke and now allow me. I cannot, I do not want to, remain here and while you indeed can confine me to bars that I wouldn't be able to bypass, have knowledge that it is not iron only that one can break. I am brittle as well; be careful with your choices."

She was fragile, as delicate as glass and it indeed was true that a single wrong move would break her in two. Yet, dash was gone, replaced by bitter wickedness and he watched as if from aside. It was easier this way when feelings were stored away on the farthest shelf. Cowardliness had never suited him better. It had become a dear companion whose presence never left and sometimes even comforted.

Very softly, his fingers walked the white expense of her ankle and when a gasp escaped the prison of her lips, he paused in his ministrations. His eyes met hers, wide yet unafraid. She simply didn't understand. Not yet, not quite.

"Please leave now." She demanded.

The sheet resumed its position as a barrier between his flesh and hers and no longer was he allowed to touch, to feel, to savour. Slowly, he backed away and then there was darkness. Not understanding, he stared into space, trying so desperately to put the pieces back together, to find the common sense he lacked among the myriad of wild sentiments in order to help the dear girl, but nothing came.

"Leave. Please."

Her voice pierced through the fog. High, young and distressed. A familiar numbness attacked his limbs and then – oblivion. She said something, what he did not gather. Her eyebrows rose and even her eyes sought his but still the blankness, the vacuum of sensation, was stronger and so he simply walked away.


	4. Chapter 4 : Kore

I love you all, you make my day =)

**Chapter 4 : Kore**

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* * *

**

"The Olympus will not be fooled."

Her colouring had long time disappeared; it had deserted her skin like a betrayer at war. But the way translucency took over added a touch of ethereality to her; almost as if she was made out of glass. He wished to trap her inside a prison of nothingness so null would obtrude his view of her, yet would not allow her to run. And then he desired to be imprisoned with her. He loathed bitterly the fact that as each day passed by she explored the realm a little bit more. Soon her conniving little mind would come up with a foolish idea. During those moments he simply wanted to suppress who she was and mould her all over again. Create a perfect little creature oblivious to light and what lay past his domain. It was such an appealing idea. Make his thoughts her own; twist her words so they would fit his assumptions and wishes.

"Down here I am the only authority. The Olympus remains where the sun is and cannot – nor will it – descend to fire and brimstone. I will not lie; this truly is the netherworld, but perhaps, just perhaps, will you be able to change it to your liking."

She had resorted to threats. They were insubstantial, small and cleverly hid under a burden of words, yet he felt them. As a matter of fact he felt them more than he knew that they were indeed present, floating just above the surface. And then there were her sighs. They were so melodious; but her voice spoke so much about her and it hurt him more than pleased. Sorrow, hatred, desolation; there was nothing else that passed the threshold of the pink lips. Once he had gathered enough gall to reach out and trap her face in his hands and trail his fingers across the softness of her cheeks. But she had trashed like mad, like an animal that knows that the arrow is to come and strike yet tries to avoid its fate. He had been forced to let go and the whole ordeal left him with an acrimonious taste in his mouth; one he had attempted to spit out and forget but to no avail.

"Yet you cannot avoid the others for ever." She had remarked quietly.

Her hands shook, her noticed. The audacity, that sudden outburst of bravado, was suddenly slipping away and she was clutching it closely to her breast, trying to keep it if only for a little while longer.

"Cease this at once." He ordered harshly. Something about her words stung horribly. The pain was horrid, almost as if she had cut his skin open with a knife and now was rubbing salt into the fresh wound.

Her eyes rose to meet his. "It is the truth what I am saying. Are you denying it ?"

"I told you to conclude with it, you infernal little thing."

It was something surreal. Blood, there was actually blood before his very eyes and he could not see past it. He was vaguely aware of the way she had screamed, only to be quietened by an almost-blow to the cheek. There was tenderness beneath his fingers. Curious, he cast a glance down to see that they had dug into the flesh of her frail shoulders. But no matter, it did not matter at the moment. To her trembling he added a thrill of his own creation and her body went still in his arms.

"You vixen," He spat, forcing her face up even as she fought, "Are you not yet content ? What do you require, I ask ? Tell me what it is and you shall have it. Do you not know that I will acquire anything for you, anything at all but you still continue to play the role of the waif."

"Let go of me." She pleaded with him. "Let go of me at this instant."

"You will listen to me." His hand went to her hair for a not quite gentle tug but not a violent one either. She gasped, her jaw fell down and he grasped it with shaking fingers. "I do not ask for much, don't you understand ?" A kick to the shin. He felt nothing. "Love is not even what I demand of you, I would be satisfied with loyalty for now. But Persephone, but dear Kore, don't you know that when one spends time with another something happens ? Feelings, contact perhaps. I could force you into wedlock, you know."

She had become a thrashing mess, spitting insults and alternating between crying and pleading. It all fell on deaf ears as he laughed and bellowed and shook her so she would only remain quiet.

"I will not speak again !" She cried. "Let go of me, my Lord, just let go of me."

"Release me at once, you wretch." Something about her was different then; it wasn't her persona, not entirely at least, but rather that desperate tone to her voice, that melting edge. The metal of angst was being liquefied and giving way to an almost primal fear.

It had not been in his intentions to let go of her, not for now, not before she understood. But her nails dug deep into his skin and the tightness of his grip loosened before disappearing altogether. Her hands trembled, he noticed, as were her lips and heaving, little bosom. She still was that playing child from the sun-kissed meadow, only now he refused to see merely that facade of her. It wasn't enough. She murmured something; she even seemed to cry out before clutching at her hair - that blond river he wished to touch - and turning away shook like a dog left in the rain.

"You feed me lies !" She shrilled. Those were the first words to pierce through the fog of his creation. "I cannot be here with you for everything you say is false. You tell me I am free yet I cannot walk alone. You assure me of your constant affection and devotion and the moment later there are bruises around my wrists."

It was true. Everything she was saying was. Despite all promises he still hadn't allowed her to venture around on her own. His personal demons were far too strong. Their presence was a burden and when one spoke about her beauty and desire to possess, the other affirmed that it was very unwise indeed to grant her the gift of freedom. And he was selfish, very much so, and had listened to them blindly before cutting everything he could from her. When one day she was able to take two steps to the right, the very next hour she was to remain unmoving. It was safer this way. Like this she couldn't run for if she did she could escape. She wasn't bonded to him and until the inevitable occurred he feared the lightest whisper of air.

There was a sharp pain to his chest - a physical one, and he looked down to see that she had thrown something. What the object was, was quickly lost to him.

"Believe me when I say that my intentions had always been honourable. I never wanted to hurt you." He rasped. The blue on her skin was haunting; he couldn't bring himself to avert his gaze.

"No." She shook her head, hair flying around. "You know exactly how strong you are and you take advantage of it."

The madness couldn't be kept at bay a second time. He laughed, he turned around, he crushed a hand against the wall only to witness her horrifying vocalizations.

And then silence was back. None of them spoke, only she cried. Quietly, but the echoes of her sobs made their way to him.

"I wanted to put a crown on your head." He said at last. "Now, I shall force it."

"I would have been unwilling either way. It doesn't matter if you use strength or gentleness, my desire is absent."

He couldn't tell why it affected him so much for in an instant he soon again was lost in a daze. Somehow his subconscious, that little part of his mind which was fuelled by cheerful thoughts, had stored away the possibility that she would perhaps be happy to elope from the world above. It made him feel less guilty and whenever his eyes caught a glimpse of his own reflection, the cowardliness didn't show. Oh, it was there, floating beneath the surface, but like a child he had until now refused to acknowledge it until it became obvious. But she was not happy. There wasn't an ounce of joy in her and he simply couldn't understand. If she indeed adored being patronized, then what was the difference between her mother and himself ?

He loved her, how he loved her, he kept telling himself. It was that realization, that damnation that had made him hysterical while she was away from him, a mere ghost, a pale and haunting image of what he could have yet was unable to claim for the time being. Surely he loved her more than Demeter. That feeling, that ripped his chest apart, had no limits whilst Demeter's could not cross the line of motherly affection. A lover, a confident, playthings on which she could ease her frustrations; he could be anything, he would be everything for her. As long as she didn't left.

Hatred and tenderness are similar and within a moment he softened. He would have fallen to his knees before the lass but she was already crumpled down on the hard stone. Was she cold, he wondered, did the marble cooled her skin ? With shaking hands he gingerly felt for her upper-arms and pulled her up. She seemed not in the mood for another tantrum and it pleased him more than it should have. Calm, relaxed, perfectly serene, Persephone did not move. He looked at her, drank in the sight of the porcelain doll of his creation that did not move, did not object even when he ran a finger down the side of her jaw. There was an occasional tremble but the thought that it was he who caused it he pushed aside, preferring to ignore the confirmation of her loathing. It was easier to feel like a hero this way.

Because at some level he was one, was he not ? Did he not offer her everything a restrained girl could wish her ? Was he not throwing both his kingdom and himself at her feet ? Surely she was being foolish and petulant and simply did not yet see what his promises entailed. And while her freedom was limited, that matter would disappear once she was bound to him. All women of Greece lived that sort of life, not allowed to walk around without husband or father. And here he was, granting every single wish she could have, not parading around with her on his arm, displaying the girl like some trophy or a king's gift.

"You are young, you are so young." He murmured. "You do not understand a word of mine, girl. But no matter. Realization visits everyone; it shall come to be a guest at your table too. Don't fight, don't protest so violently," And there he reached out to stroke her cheek, an innocent and fond gesture, but she came out of her trance and backed away from him, "It damaged your pretty colouring already." He finished on a whispery note, his voice no more than a faint quiver of air.

"My colouring ?" She repeated shakily.

Her mouth formed his words slowly, with reverence and child-like innocence. He wished to touch those lips, to feel their pink softness beneath his fingertips. However for now it was to remain an unfulfilled desire.

"Yes. There is no blush in your cheeks or fire in your eyes. You have grown pale and yet you haven't been with me for very long."

Oh, but not all colours had left her. The blue, that bitter reminder or his wrath and total loss of control, still proudly sat around her wrists. It had formed a bracelet-like alliance with its partners from the previous day when he had raged at her for defending her mother. He shivered but it was she who reacted, her arms coming up to wrap themselves around her frame. Was she fearful of his reactions ? Did she perhaps imagined he would trap her inside a far more intimate prison than the one of his realm ? Put his hand on the small of her back, tangle his fingers in her hair and not allow her to take even half a step back ?

She was right to. He wished to do it, horribly so.

"You have stripped it away." Persephone answered.

"I promise I will give it back." He said in the same thick musical tone, the statement a mockery but not quite one. "You will come to find it by your own means once you understand there is nothing here for you to be afraid of."

She did not react nor to his words or promises. And yet there he was again, speaking, unable to stench the flow of useless pledges and oaths. It were her eyes, he realized, they were vacant as if she had escaped his presence. Not physically -this he would never allow - but rather on a whole both different and superior level. Her mind was closed to him and panicked erupted through his composition, burning like fire, ravaging every ounce of him. He wanted the girl, he loved her, the smile on her lips and the spark in her orbs. How to deal with a shell of a being he did not know.

"Would you like to visit birds and trees ? Would you like to lie on the grass and feel the warmth of the sun caressing your skin ?" Liveliness, supreme and passionate, made the doll revert to its previous state; the one of the carefree and joyous maid.

Once more he could feel her. Not only her skin but that very warmth that was hers and hers only, a personal essence. He clung to it in a madly fashion and when his hand grasped her wrist, she did not object or put up a fight.

However when he offered the Elysium to her, she saddened once again and refused to acknowledge his stories and tales. She had been such a curious child, he remembered, always in search of an answer. When her eyes met the soul of some man fortunate enough to have earned Heaven, he immediately told her of his fate. That one had been a brave warrior, the one by the lake had died for his family. On rare occasions her features softened and he delighted in those moments of utter peace. Perhaps she would giggle and grin more often very soon, he kept telling himself. But those were lies and he was uncertain whether they would suffice.

But they had to.

And then she said it; that little phrase that made his blood cuddle in his veins.

"Please leave me to myself." She declared, walking away so tantalizingly slowly.

He did not move, he did not speak. He simply was lost. She had made the same request last night and he had acceded to her wishes. But now, now !

"Are you not content ?" He queried. There was an almost hysterical edge to his voice and for once he did not find the strength to conceal it. Nor did he want to.

"It is very beautiful." She breathed. "Let me explore by myself." He could not place the sigh she gave. Was it one of sorrow or amazement ?

But he nodded and that privilege had been granted to her. However when she reached out to graze the grass ever so slightly with her fingers, her lips curled in repulsion.

* * *

He did not have a name. She had exercised every manipulative manner she knew on him and yet his only answer remained blissful ignorance. He was happy where he was now and would stay forever. For days his soul did nothing but sit by the river's end and stare elatedly at the water. He was a man with fine eyes and though they were now empty, she could sense still a reminiscence of passion that shook him from time to time. Since the very first escapade, Persephone had grown fond of him. There were many errant umbrae - though light of skin there was an unseen darkness about them - but they only inspired fear in her.

He was the only one she loved wholeheartedly. His hair was ink and silver, almost white when the semblance of a blaze embraced him. It had become a habit, a pleasant custom, to sit close to him and hold his hand. The flesh she stroked tenderly with her fingers was cold and did not feel like skin at all, but there was something oddly comforting to it.

"You did not die young." She had told him once after noticing wrinkles her eyes had before bypassed in favour of another, more captivating feature. "But you do not look old either."

"Why don't you enjoy the sun, child ?" He had smiled instead.

"There is none." She had protested numbly. Could he not feel, could he not see? "There is no life or warmth. How can you be so happy ?"

"I do not care for the truth for it is a vile thing that can hurt as much as gratify. It is far easier to live within a lie if it makes you blithe." And while he had spoken, he had reached out to run a finger down her jaw. It had been an affectionate, playful gesture and she had tried to lean into his touch, to feel his kindness so generously offered without anything expected in exchange, but he had drawn away.

"There is no good in a lie." Persephone had objected.

"Then call it a reverie."

And she still hadn't come to get wind of his name.

* * *

"His name is Agapios, or rather had been for here there is only peaceful solitude and blissful ignorance. No man remembers the woman he had cherished or the idol who he had called father."

Curiosity had turned into a gelid desire to know. Hands trembling and all good will gone, she had sought him out. It seemed to her that it was the lowest act one could commit; willingly submit to the abductor and hunger for his acknowledgement of the demand and a final, long-awaited, elucidation. She watched as he walked, she watched as his lips parted to allow explanation after explanation to escape. They were music to her ears. Why this sudden obsession, she could not explain. But it was not an unhealthy interest and so she was not worried in the least.

"Agapios." She tasted his name on her tongue. It had a full, foreign taste but one she enjoyed nonetheless. "Loving-kindness ."

"Very good." He acquiesced, the air of a tutor praising his favourite pupil. "I've rarely encountered men who wear their name like a second skin. When alive, it had been his alias and while so many others had been called the same, he truly had been the only and worthy owner of it. How he had loved."

She returned to Agapios and inquiries passed through her lips. Who was he ? Did he not remember anything at all ? Instead his hands went to her face.

"It is as if I've already seen your visage, dear one." He smiled.

He remembered her as a shade, one that didn't share in the dead, yet pleasant to the eye, light of other virtuous who roamed the Elysian Fields. She understood that he easily recalled her face and presence but it had never affected him.

"He is not a deceased warrior who brags about the feats he once accomplished." Hades told her when she came back. "He had been a man, only a man, and truth be told his place is amongst the lost of the plain of Asphodel, he is per contra far too righteous for nothingness. But even in Elysium he felt constant grief and its cause was one I could not eliminate. I gave him water from the Lethe, Persephone."

Lethe, the river of forgetfulness. She felt saddened and angry. Why was it that the only being who was completely and utterly alive - yet without really being it - robbed of his memory ? They could have talked and maybe he would have told her amusing tales. Again she was alone for Persephone realized that Agapios did not care for her, not really. The warmth of her hands intrigued him and made a smile play upon his lips, but the constant flow of the water was a sight far more endearing.

* * *

_"What is your name, dear heart ?"_

_He was a youngster to her eyes, a man to those of others. His pure smile enchanted her, it filled her with mad longing to watch, to see, to witness every gesture of his. The way he smoothed his poor mother's hair from her burning forehead was a sad scene, yet it did not fill her with dreadfulness. He was so lovely she forgot about everything else._

_And there he was, finally before her. He was fond of softness, she remembered, and so she reached out to tenderly take his hand. The little dance began as she caressed his face and he responded with quiet sighs and a rapid trailing of fingers along the length of her neck. And when he breathed she felt it on her skin._

_"Dear heart." He suspired, his voice a faint echo of hers. Again and over he retold her words, twisting them to fit different assumptions most vainly, until finally he understood that this moment was simple and there was no searching for truth to be done. "Agapios, it is Agapios."_

_She was painfully aware of her control over him and that all of this was a clever manipulation of his poor deluded mind. But truly, she was unable to stop for it felt so good to be adored. Oh, but she adored him as well and so logic was that there was no harm in her doings. Affectionately, she stroked his hair and, content and ablaze, he leaned into her._

_"Demeter." She had said when he inquired if such a beauty as she had a name and if such one as he was worthy enough to call her by it._

_

* * *

_

_"The earth cries when it's first ploughed." He explained._

_"Then do be gentle, dear heart."_

_His smile was her reward. He loved her affections, the manner in which she employed words to turn them into tender byname. More often than not, she preferred the bliss of simplicity and so he had become her dear, her beau, and his name had been carelessly tossed to the side. She watched sweat appear on his olive skin, small beads running down his chest. She wished to touch him, to feel him lose all control until finally tension would become too much and he would snap._

_But for now she watched._

_"Is there something preoccupying you ? Please do tell me what is wrong." His hands fell on her bare shoulders and she shivered in pure delight, mainly for his breath was now so close to the hollow spot behind her ear._

_Demeter gingerly reached out for him, pressing her body into his from behind until, at last, his chin came to rest on the top of her head on which sat a crown of loose locks. Through them he ran his nose, rejoicing in their texture and finding pleasure in her sighs. His lips had become the sweetest nectar though in the beginning she foolishly had confused it with honey -pleasant on the tongue but one tires rapidly of it. She was glad the misunderstanding had been left far behind. There was calmness in her, a sort of rare peacefulness that none could disturb and for the first time she didn't doubt that she found happiness. He pulled away, out of breath, and there was a sweet blush marring his cheeks, one she traced with only her fingertips. His breathing had grown harsh until it completely turned into raged pants. Feeling pity for her distressed lover, she kissed him once again thus offering herself paradise and selfishly forgetting that everything had its price._

_

* * *

_

_It had happened suddenly; just like any other tragedy. She had found him lying in the grass and so tall it was she first had thought he was asleep. With his hair she had played, disturbing the straight river of black laced with silver, and had awaited his eyes to open and his lips to smile. They never did._

_She didn't cry. This day was to come sooner and later and many times had Demeter tried to convince herself to let him be so when Hades would claim her she would suffer. But while there was now flow going down her cheeks she felt dead inside. He had begun to show signs of weakness and she, foolish creature, had neglected them. Into his chest Demeter buried her face and over and over again repeated the same phrase; why, oh why did you leave me? There was no answer or movement of lips, nor did she expect to witness his inert lips to part, and grief struck with renewed passion. She flung herself away from the body that no longer was her Agapios, her dear heart._

_She did not ease the earth apart to offer him a grave for the flowers and the green grass were a fairer shrine to his memory._

_Memories are evil. She tried on numerous occasions to throw away the memory of him but even her treacherous body had refused to cooperate. She still could clearly recall the warmth of him around, inside, enveloping her. And so Demeter sought out Hades._

_"Give him back to me." She pleaded with her brother and when doing so fell to her knees beside him. "I beg of you, return him to me. It is the one and only favour I will ever ask for. As you can see I've lost all pride already, I shall do whatever you wish."_

_He was silent for a long time before gently taking her wrists and pulling her up. With his hands he steadied her trembling frame and ever so softly brushed the hair that hid her eyes away._

_"I cannot do it and for this I am sorry." He whispered._

_His eyes were sincere, she realized, he was not fooling or lying to her. And with this knowledge she at last began to cry._

_"He has not paid his fare to Charon, however." She heard him say. "Perhaps you want to do it. It will allow you to see him one more time but you will not be able to speak with him nor will he know you're here."_

_Demeter agreed__ hastily, there __was no doubtfulness in her as she followed him eagerly. It was a look of pity that he had bestowed upon her, yet, utterly drained of all basic emotions but anger, she tossed it to the side as if it was the most foolish thing in the world. She would have snapped at him before, she thought, she would have ripped his throat out for the mercy he was showing her. His benevolence drew her insane; but was she not mad already for asking for his empathy in the very beginning ? Now that he sympathized she felt confused._

_She simply wasn't used to be the one whom control had left. All her life she had been the one to decide whether a family was to starve or get through winter with a stock full of grain. Nature obeyed her and so, by all means, did life. Crops were synonym of continuous existence and it was she, Demeter, their queen. The power to decide had always been hers and hers alone. And now she realized that all those thoughts had been nothing but daft, mere drolleries compared to the reality of life and its frail fragility. Like fine crystal it possessed the ability to break. Suddenly she earned for what he, Hades, had. If he was to love a mortal then they would never separate for even if the girl was to die, he was the ruler of both Hell and Paradise, of light and darkness, and could pass through whichever gate he desired. _

"_He is there." At last Hades spoke._

_She drank in the sight of him. So lost, helpless almost like a child though the wrinkled upon his beautiful face spoke otherwise. _

"_He has not paid his fare." Demeter heard. "And so he will not pass."_

_At Charon she starred, that ferryman upon whose face no emotions were written. When she offered him a smile he bowed but his devotion was to Hades for immediately his back was to her. It left her breathless, such gut, but for the sake of seeing Agapios, Demeter remained quiet. _

"_She will pay it for him."_

"_It was I who was supposed to bury him." She said on a whispery note. "Forgive me for I forgot to put a coin on his tongue thus neglecting you. But there, you shall have it."_

_She dropped the piece of metal in his outstretched hand. Immediately his long fingers closed, trapping for ever what was rightfully his and once more he nodded. Demeter watched as Agapios entered the boat, his features hadn't changed, he still looked grieving as though it was from his chest that the heart had been ripped out instead of hers. _

"_Where will he go ?" She demanded to know._

"_To the Asphodel meadows." Hades answered. "He is no warrior who died at war for his land, nor was he a husband who had defended his wife until he met his end."_

''_Please don't.'' Demeter pleaded with him. "Please don't send him there for he deserves so much more."_

_He began pulling her away though she fought, not violently but forcefully enough to make him hiss threats. It was time to go, he was saying, it's time to leave Demeter. But she didn't stop, again and again she entreated him to consider her words. He had long lost all courtesy he had been feinting moment ago and bellowed loudly for her to calm down which she did not do. Even though they neared what was the upper world, she still felt as if the blackness had swallowed her. Cold air wafted against her bare ankles and she shivered. It was so dreadful down here, but not even when waves of warm, fresh air blew on her face did she smile._

"_Please." She called to him as he turned around. "Please Hades, please, don't leave him there."_

_He froze and her heart did as well. Her fancies had begun a wild race against reason. Was he considering her begging ? Perhaps would he agree to strike a bargain with her? She was ready to sign it in her blood was he to request it. _

"_Leave at once, Demeter." He said in a lilting, sing-song voice. It was as if he had lost his mind. _

"_Will you concede to my imploration ?" She cried out. There was a need in her to approach him, seize his large shoulders and shake him until reason would give him the slap she daren't to allow live. But she did not, immobilized by fright._

_His tall form was standing square in her path back to Agapios and she shrank to the cold stone on the other side of him. Her hands shook convulsively and she was utterly at loss of both words and actions. What was she to do ? Scream, begin a tantrum ? But as he turned around those black-lashed eyes, though the same as ever, seemed to suddenly belong to an entirely different person. _

"_I will do it," Hades shook his head as if flabbergasted. And it truly was a sight to behold. Never before had she seen his features adopt anything else but discontentment and indignation, sometimes switching place with pure neutrality. _

_She was laconic as she left him and he did not turn around to spare her a last glance. Peace had not taken over her soul, but in the interim equanimity had triumphed._

Demeter looked at her hands. Those hands had nursed her daughter; those hands had held Agapios dead body.

"_You daughter is beautiful." Hecate smiled. "Persephone, such an alluring creature she is. Exquisite."_

"_My Kore ?" Demeter queried. _

"_Persephone. Isn't it her name ?"_

_

* * *

_

Who was she after all ? Persephone or her Kore ? She did not know nor did she want to receive the answer for she feared it would hurt even more. Agapios had left her alone and now Persephone was gone.

Or was it Kore ? Maiden ? Her daughter, that pure jewel, or a woman ?

Her face sought out her hands, those hands that had no one to caress now, and Demeter cried.


End file.
